Children of Destiny: The Night Everything Changed
A silent night.
Perhaps... too silent for what was about to happen.
That night, the fate of the world changed forever.
In a small house far from the noise, a couple played happily with their child. The baby laughed with overwhelming tenderness as his mother—a beautiful red-haired woman with bright green eyes—tickled his tiny belly before laying him in the crib.
"It's time to sleep, my love," she whispered sweetly, kissing his forehead with care.
At that moment, a series of sharp knocks echoed on the front door.
The father immediately looked up. He recognized that rhythm.
It was the knock of one of his oldest friends—from the Hogwarts days.
"I'll go," he said, casting a final affectionate look at his family.
He walked down the stairs confidently. After all, the house was protected by ancient magic. No one could find it... unless they knew exactly where to look.
But when he opened the door, he froze.
The figure standing there was no friend. Or at least, not anymore.
"Watch out!" he shouted in desperation.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green light sliced through the air.
The spell struck his chest directly, and he collapsed like a ragdoll—without another sound.
The woman, who had approached the staircase, heard the cry and rushed back to her son's room.
"No… please, no..." she whispered shakily, leaning over the crib.
Her hands moved quickly, drawing magical shapes in the air—ancient runes, glowing threads of light swirling around her and her child.
"Mother… please… protect him…" she murmured, her face twisted in anguish as she completed the circle.
The assassin didn't take long to arrive. The door to the room exploded open, and the dark figure stepped in with steady strides.
His eyes, snake-like and cold, locked onto the baby.
"Give me the child," he ordered in a soulless, chilling voice.
"You'll never lay a finger on him," the woman replied firmly, stepping between the man and her son.
Her hand, hidden behind her back, kept moving.
The final magical strokes were completed, and a golden circle lit up beneath her feet—just big enough for her and the baby.
The intruder frowned.
He recognized that kind of magic… and he didn't like it.
He pointed his wand at the child. "Avada Kedavra."
The woman didn't hesitate.
She threw herself in front of the spell without thinking, taking it directly in the chest.
She fell to the ground, her final gaze filled with love for her son... and then, silence.
The killer dismissed her with a glance.
He walked toward the crib unhurriedly, unaware—or perhaps simply unable to perceive—that a faint golden thread had flown from the mother's body into the child's the moment she died.
"Avada Kedavra," he whispered one last time.
The green light rushed toward the baby… but this time, something happened.
The baby's body, still crying, lit up with a pure golden light.
The spell was completely absorbed… and a second later, a golden blast erupted from the child, shooting straight at the attacker.
The dark wizard barely had time to open his eyes before his body was disintegrated—annihilated by the sacred energy surging from the circle.
Golden bolts exploded across the room, destroying much of the second floor.
And in the middle of the chaos…
The child was still alive.
Crying.
But unharmed.
The circle around the crib, seemingly dormant, flared back to life with overwhelming intensity.
A figure emerged from the center, as if tearing through the fabric of reality itself.
It was a woman.
Her black hair floated like smoke in the wind, and her dark eyes held entire galaxies within them.
She wore an ancient, elegant dress—dark as night.
A snake rested coiled around her waist, as if it were part of her.
The goddess Hecate had arrived.
Her eyes fell on the child… then on the lifeless body of the mother.
For a moment, a shadow of sorrow crossed her face.
She stepped silently toward the fallen woman.
No words.
No spells.
Then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance.
A gigantic man, much taller than any normal human, burst into the house.
His eyes scanned the scene: the woman on the floor, the crying child…
He walked to the crib and lifted the baby with the utmost care, as if the child were the most fragile thing in the world.
He cradled him in his arms, trying to calm his sobs.
And no… he didn't seem to notice the dark-haired woman watching silently from right in front of him.
The man, alert, descended the stairs with slow, heavy steps.
He stepped outside the destroyed house, still on guard.
The moment he reached the open air, a flying motorcycle landed in front of him.
A man with long black hair and a face hardened by grief jumped off.
"What happened, Hagrid? What happened to James and Lily?" he asked the moment he saw him.
The giant lowered his head solemnly.
The other man took a step back, as if the news had just torn out his soul.
"Give me Harry… I'll take him somewhere safe," he said, voice trembling.
"I can't give him to you," Hagrid replied firmly.
"Then… take him. Take my bike! Quickly," the man insisted, fury burning in his eyes.
He pulled out his wand.
"I'm going after him. I won't let this go unpunished."
As he ran off, the dark figure still watched.
Hecate didn't interfere.
She simply observed, her gaze filled with quiet understanding.
…
Hours later, far from the scene, a conversation took place under the pale light of dawn.
"Are you sure, Dumbledore? I've been watching that couple all afternoon. They're not exactly what you'd call… suitable," said a stern-faced woman wearing a green robe and a pointed hat. Her voice was as firm as her posture.
"Perhaps not, Minerva. But they're his family. And for now, that's all he needs," replied the old man with a long white beard and a rather flamboyant robe.
"They're his family… but not his home," Minerva murmured, barely audible.
Dumbledore gently placed the baby in a basket, right at the doorstep of a modest house.
Inside, voices and laughter mingled with the sound of a television.
He laid a letter on the child's blanket… and both of them vanished.
Then Hecate appeared, silent and still.
She approached little Harry and took the letter without needing to open it.
With just a touch, she seemed to understand everything it said.
Then her eyes, deep as the night itself, settled once more on the child.
And for the first time in centuries… the goddess of magic smiled.
A very faint smile.
But one full of promises.
Elsewhere in the world...
A woman of quiet beauty, with soft features and blue eyes dulled by exhaustion, was resting in a silent park. Her chestnut hair, with a hint of red under the sunlight, draped over her shoulders as she held a sleeping baby against her chest.
She sat alone, as if that walk were more of a momentary escape than a casual break.
And yet, her smile as she looked at her son was warm, deep… as if any sacrifice was worth it, as long as it was for him.
But then, a shadow blocked the sun.
She looked up, confused.
Before her stood a dazzling woman.
Her jet-black hair fell in soft waves, and her presence carried an elegant, mysterious aura. At her feet was a basket… and inside it, another sleeping baby.
The woman on the bench frowned, not understanding what was happening.
"Do you need something?" she asked cautiously, unsettled by the intensity of the woman's gaze.
"Not me," the stranger replied with a serene, deep voice—like someone speaking from another time.
"You need this. Even if it means sacrificing your own happiness. Because you are kind. Honorable."
Without another word, she gently pushed the basket toward her.
"Raise him as your own. Love him as if he carried your blood. In return, I'll hide his scent. Yours, and your true son's. Until the day comes when the world must know who they are."
For a moment, the words made no sense.
But then… it was as if something clicked inside her.
As if those phrases had struck the exact corner of her soul that needed to hear them.
The woman looked down at the basket, at the sleeping child… then up at the mysterious visitor.
"Can you hide them? Truly protect them? I… I'll do it. As long as Percy is safe," she replied urgently, rising carefully to her feet.
"This child is like your own. The same… but different. Raise him. Protect him. And no one will find you until fate calls them forward," said the dark-haired woman. With a soft motion, she placed the basket in her hands.
When the woman looked up again… the visitor was gone.
She glanced around, stunned. People continued walking, chatting, playing with their children.
No one seemed to have noticed anything strange.
No one... except her, now holding two babies in her arms.
Then one of them stirred, restless.
It was the baby from the basket, beginning to cry with small, frantic kicks.
She carefully laid him on the grass, placed Percy in his stroller beside them, and put both hands gently on the new child to calm him.
But as she did… something caught her eye.
Beneath the blanket… were two large gold bars.
Her eyes went wide in shock. She quickly covered them again and looked around, as if someone might have seen.
On top of the baby lay a letter.
She picked it up with trembling hands… and began to read.
Five years later…
"Percy, it's your turn to get the ball!" shouted a small boy with glasses, peeking over the neighbor's fence. A red ball had landed in the forbidden backyard—where a chained dog barked like a demonic guardian beast.
"That's a lie! It's your turn, Harry!" another boy shouted, also popping his head over the fence.
Both had messy black hair and similar green eyes… though each had a different kind of sparkle.
"It's not fair. I went last time. You tricked me! I'm not falling for it again," Harry huffed, crossing his arms like a little offended judge.
"Come on, I'm the older brother. You have to listen to me," Percy said, puffing out his chest proudly.
"That's not true! My birthday's in July. Yours is in August!" Harry shot back immediately.
"I meant mental maturity," Percy replied with a wise, smug tone.
"Hmph! That doesn't count," Harry grumbled before turning and running toward the house.
"Where are you going?" Percy asked suspiciously.
"To tell Mom," Harry shouted without stopping.
"Aah, coward! Mama's boy!" Percy yelled, jumping off the bench they used to spy on the neighbor and chasing after him.
The two of them ran across the backyard like wild comets—until the kitchen door swung open.
And doom fell upon them.
A woman with chestnut hair, beautiful even in her cleaning clothes, stepped out wearing rubber gloves and holding a half-burned sweater in one hand… with a glare that could freeze any demigod's soul.
Harry, who was leading the race, stopped dead in his tracks.
He recognized her immediately.
He recognized that sweater.
He turned around and screamed in panic.
Percy needed no explanation. He screamed too—
—but ran in the opposite direction.
"Get back here right now!" roared Sally Jackson—mother of Harry Jackson Potter and Perseus Jackson—as she watched her sons sprint across the yard like fugitives.
They both knew.
There was no escape.
Only punishment.
........
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p*treon/YoDarki